Yet another victim of pregnancy and baby loss was pride in my body. I had never been terribly fond of mine pre-pregnancy, and the girls and Bug behind me, I downright hated it.
It, my body, was what failed. It let my water break, forcing the girls out early (even though when I think logically I know they would not have made it regardless). It failed again when Bug didn’t develop right … when I then didn’t miscarry on my own.
Even throughout my pregnancy with Kai, it’s ability to do what it was supposed to was tenuous. I was sick, in pain, and always terrified that any day could be the last.
So, it came as a great surprise the other day when I realized that I again have pride in my body. I don’t hate it anymore.
I realized this as I struggle to introduce Kai to rice cereal. At almost 5 months, he is showing signs of being ready, and with him eating a ton, and having serious spitting issues, well, it really could be anytime.
But for some reason I have been hesitating. It took me awhile to figure it out. It isn’t that I love breast-feeding itself. It works for us, no doubt, but I don’t feel that emotional about it either way.
The other day, it finally hit me. After 40 weeks of growing inside, and almost 5 months outside, my body has managed to grow this.
A happy, healthy, seriously pudgy handsome little man. My body has managed this … no outside help required. He has given me back a little bit of respect and pride for what my body can do.
And cereal, well, it will change that. I know that one day soon I will give in – pull out the box, make him a bowl, and most likely totally make his day. But it won’t be today, or tomorrow. Right now I am just basking in him.